


Would You Lie with Me and Just Forget The World?

by Palytoxin



Series: Love & Pride [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Manacor, Rafa’s POV, Retirements, Roger’s POV, unbeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13945194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palytoxin/pseuds/Palytoxin
Summary: Those warm and lazy two days in the early spring of Manacor were kept in their minds forever.





	1. All that I ever was is here in your perfect eyes #10(1)-3-3

**Author's Note:**

> Roger's POV.
> 
> Just wrote something to cheer myself up. I wants Rafa to be healthy...(；´Д`A
> 
>  
> 
> Title from: Chasing Cars(2006) by Snow Patrol
> 
> Please be free to comment～

  
Roger couldn’t remember when exactly but that warm and messy and lazy late morning was always kept in his mind. It must have been the first year after Rafa retired. Because early spring meant Indian Well and Miami. No way they could have still rested in Manacor if he had kept playing. And they started to play doubles next year.

 

They spent Christmas with their own family separately. Then he flew back to Manacor and met Rafa at his beautiful house at the private bay. Rafa called it little shelter, he bought it after his parents divorced. They stayed there for weeks, far from the rest of the world. He thought he hadn’t had such a long, peaceful leave since he had turned professional.

The light of noon sun passed through curtains and put a shadow over the naked, curved body pressing against his side. Rafa curled, face burying in pillows. This was also unusual for Rafa sleeping so late. He always said he no like sleep, it wasted time.

He drew his fingers down the tanned, warm skin. Five fingertip-shape bruises that fit his palm well reminded him the craziness of last night. He pinned Rafa still on the bed by hands on his hip, sucking him mercilessly till he was screaming and coming in his mouth. And there’s also a bite mark over Rafa’s left nipple because he was too aroused on to control the force.

Rafa straddled on his hip, head throwing back, steadying himself with hands backward on his keen, nails digging into his skin, moving his ass up and down as he was commanded.

The long line from the bare throat down to the flat abs was like a full bow with moon light shining on the sheer of sweat. He felt something in awe of the scene in front of him. He couldn’t help himself but buck his hip up hard with the rhythm of Rafa’s moving.

Rafa was moaning loudly but the language died by his lips. His chest heaved heavily. He was breathing Roger’s name like praying. And Roger just knew all he wanted to say. He said I love you with Roger’s name, saying I miss you, I need you, I can’t live without you......

He knew he should do the clean up for Rafa. But it’s too warm to move. And the thought of he left something inside Rafa was extremely hot. So he just let go and fell asleep with Rafa’s warm body held in his arms.

 

Roger gasped. Even just thinking about it made a throbbing low in his belly.

He slid his hands down and caressed the nape of Rafa’s neck. Rafa seemed to be awakened, long black eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. Then he saw the liquid amber eyes still cloudy with sleep and a little tiredness. He kissed them slowly, then down to those full lips.

“Morning, baby”

The lay side by side in the same way they lay at the beach last evening, face turning to each other, eyes meeting. Rafa’s eyes were always warm and gentle except on court with the burning blaze inside. The sparkle in his eye had never gone far, it faded sometimes but always came back. Although his hair got thinner, more and more wrinkles curling around his eyes, his body got weaker and betrayed him numerous times, his mind never changed and always looked the good in this world, in him. Rafa’s worships made him try hard to be the person in his words. Rafa brought out the best in him on courts and off.

He kissed Rafa again and again, kissing the creased forehead, raised-up brows, wrinkled eyes, snorted nose, curled lips, kissing everywhere he could, adoring him with his own lips. He wanted to make Rafa be the most happier person than everyone else in the world. He knew what Rafa like. He knew that Rafa liked to be taken care, be indulged. Rafa wouldn’t ask for, he knew all his belief about being too greedy, but Roger was always willing to give more. Because if he did, he would get the happy puppy Rafa smiling around and nudging him all day long.

He laid Rafa on his back, thigh spread wide but not too much. His hands stroked back and forth over that thin skin of his knees. Rafa wasn’t a stretchy person. He didn’t want to push him over the limit. This is the one thing that he could never stop concerning. His beautiful angelic Rafael broke his knees like broke his wings.

They made love languishingly, every thrust was slow and slow. He could feel every clenching of Rafa’s inner muscle. He pulled himself out with the whole length, lingering at Rafa’s hole squeezing his sensitive head, then pushing back ball-deep with angle, hitting Rafa’s sweet spot inside.

Rafa didn’t close his eyes or turn away. He saw himself in that warm golden brown eyes. He leaned and pressed his forehead to Rafa’s. He couldn’t ask more, he had already owned the best. Roger would thank everything that allowed him to get this beautiful man back. He wanted nothing but Rafa.

 


	2. I need your grace to remind me, to find my own #10(2)-3-4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy White Valentine’s Day~❤️
> 
>  
> 
> Rafa’s POV  
> Hope I’ve shown Rafa’s irrational crush on Roger....⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄
> 
>  
> 
> Title from: Chasing Cars(2006) by Snow Patrol
> 
> Please be free to comment～

Rafa always remembered that night and the next morning. It was the first March after his retirement. It’s weird for them staying in Manacor at that time. They should have been in North America, in the sunshine double.

 

It wasn’t cold that year. They spent a whole day around the private beach down from his house, walking, running, chasing, splashing water to each other like kids. And finally, they rolled on the sand and watched the dim blue-purple twilight falling above them, feeling the sheer peace they had established through last couple years with the accompaniment by each other.

They lay side by side, face to face, eyes to eyes. Rage pushed those curls back from Roger’s face. He looked both old and young at the same time, sophisticated but naughty grinning, brilliant eyes with wrinkles around. The flame flaring in those dark brown remembered him their intertwined careers, the undiminished spirits and indomitable minds. But they were also gentle and warm with endless worry that Roger kept for him. They always cared about each other, no matter where they would be, apart or together. He knew how insufferable and exasperating himself could be when those bad days came, picky, sarcastic, peevish, stepping from tile to tile (it’s dancing, baby), checking locks and fire obsessively, hurting all the people caring about him by punishing himself. But Roger was always there, watching him fall then picking him up. He didn’t ever give up on fixing him. He had seen the best and the worst of him and never looked down or up on him.

Their fingers entwined tightly. It always fascinated him that how every part of their body matching perfectly. They’re the same height and same weight for a long time before his decision of losing weight for decreasing stress to his knees. Roger was righty and he was lefty. Roger played with single-backhand and he played with double-backhand. They looked almost the same from behind when they dressed similarly in double matches. And somehow this idea turned Roger on as he said it out. Then Roger’s lips and hands were soon all over his body fiercely.

The hem of his shirt was pushed high. Those callused fingers rubbed his chest and down to his stomach and made him horny. He arched from the sand and sat up, kissing Roger by his chin then tugged him up, wobbling back to the house while their legs tangling.

They rushed into showers, washing out the sand on their damp skin while kissing endlessly. His hand slid between them, holding Roger in his palm, squeezing. Roger gritted, hip pushing forward and fucking his fist roughly. He moved his thumb around the head and pressed hard to that slit. Roger came trembling, breath shuddering.

Roger dragged him by the wrist and tossed him on the bed, pinning him still, sucking him off, then licked him open until he was begging. It’s horrified that someone knew your body better than yourself, but it’s Roger Federer.

Roger fucked him on his back, on all fours then commanded him to ride himself off. He couldn’t resist Roger, never. He was always seduced by the fragments of the young king he met first time on the court of Miami. The dominating, possessive and dangerous Federer whipped out everyone who dared to bother his way. This part of Roger was kept from the publicity as he grew older.

His thighs were painfully sore but he didn’t want to stop. He felt his inner muscle clenching. He wanted to scream and Roger began to thrust him from below with his iron-hard cock. He came without touching himself and his hole was tightening around Roger, urging him to cross the edge. He thought he must have passed out. He had no memory for the rest of the night.

 

“Morning, baby”

It became his name for Roger. He called him with that once after their first double match and never used it again until they finally got back together. They were both dazzled by the hyper-pumping adrenaline and enthusiasm for matches, too carefree to stay back from the line they had drawn years ago for being friends. Roger was like that he never said enough of it due to the several years that he missed. He said it as much as he could, saying it with the way which always made Rafa’s heart blooming and aching all at once. Roger liked to say it with his baritone voice, low and light like whispers. Baby, morning. Baby, you want some chocolate? Baby, come here. Baby, turn over for me. Baby, mine. Baby, you look fucking so hot. Baby, come for me. Baby, baby, baby....., I love you, baby.

One hand at the back of his neck forced him forward, the other hand stroked his sore bruises before sneaking into the crack of his ass and pushed two fingers deep inside, scissoring. He couldn’t help himself but shiver at the intrusion. He still felt what Roger left inside him last night.

They kissed languishingly. His fingers tangled around those brown silk curls while Roger kissed all over his body.

He wrapped his legs around Roger’s waist tightly, pleading him push further, harder. He devoured everything Roger gave him.

He liked the feeling Roger pressing on the top of him, warm and steady. He like the feeling Roger inside him, deep and secure and complete, like be braced, like being protected, like being anchored.

He couldn’t last long. The sensation was overwhelming and he was too sensitive for the night before. He was melting with every thrust Roger pushed into him. He whimpered for the overloading pleasure. But he didn’t close his eyes. He wanted to see, to see Roger, too see himself in the dark brown eyes. He could never let this man go again. He would do whatever he could to make this forever.

He was getting closer, hand clinging to Roger’s shoulders, muscles of his thighs bunching and flexing, losing control, body clutching around Roger’s cock, spasming. He heard Roger groaned, felt him slamming in hard and deep, slapping against his ass.

They came together, whole body tense and trembling. Roger collapsed bonelessly above him, mumbling nonsense with his face pressing at his chest. He kissed the wet temple and combed through those damp soft curls mixed with some silver lines. His heart was blooming with affection.

“Hey, we fly back to Basel tomorrow?”  
“Wherever you want, baby.” Roger sounded sleepy and happy. And he was happy, too.

They had stayed in his island for too long. He knew Roger must have been missing those sweet kids, mountains and lakes, light blue sky and fresh cool air. He was always willing to follow Roger wherever he went. It’s ok if he wanted to stay in Basel for the rest of the year. Because home is where your family are, and love is caring about who cares about you.

 


End file.
